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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24863860">Remedy</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProsperDemeter/pseuds/ProsperDemeter'>ProsperDemeter</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Iron Man (Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>I Don't Even Know, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 08:49:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,946</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24863860</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProsperDemeter/pseuds/ProsperDemeter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Parker bit his lip in a way that was stupidly attractive - especially in the low lighting - and looked at Harley through stupid colored lenses. Harley wondered what color his eyes actually were. “You can’t tell anyone.” </p><p>“I don’t know how to tell you this, doll, but people wouldn’t actually believe me if I told them that you dripped black sludge whenever fire alarms go off.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Harley Keener/Harry Osborn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>31</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Remedy</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shaderose/gifts">Shaderose</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I have zero excuse</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>    Nothing interesting happened in Rose Hill which, in itself, <em> could </em> be considered interesting. To anyone outside of Rose Hill, that was. After eighteen years Harley could safely say that he was desensitized to any curiosity the small town brought to onlookers. He could count on one hand the interesting things that had occurred in the past eighteen years - Tony Stark had crashed into his garage, his father left and his mother was the only single mom in the entire town, and the arrival of Parker Klein just a week previous. </p><p>    Interesting because no one came <em> to </em> Rose Hill let alone a barely legal much too attractive teenager with an accent that Harley couldn’t exactly place. He was all the town was talking about - he came by himself, paid six months rent up front in cash, and was nice enough to anyone that talked to him that the majority of the townsfolk left him alone. Harley had run into him at the grocery store with a triple take - he had <em> heard </em> of the newcomer but he had expected a drifter - not someone with bottle black hair, obviously colored lenses, and sunglasses that were supposed to look cheap but were painfully expensive. They had a <em> brand </em> printed on the side. </p><p>    Harley had wanted to tell him that he was outright horrible at hiding and blending in - a face like <em> that </em> should have been in a big city if they wanted to not be the talk of the town, and, even then, it would probably <em> still </em> be impossible to hide away forever - but he realized, after a night of long thought, that perhaps it wasn’t that Parker Klein was <em> trying </em>to fade into the background but that he was trying to be somewhere where he wouldn’t be recognized. Fine, Harley thought. He was sure at some point he might be able to understand even if the thought of fading into obscurity absolutely terrified him. </p><p>    Still, Harley understood the need to run away and so he vowed to keep himself <em> out </em> of Parker Klein’s business. He only had a year left in Rose Hill and Harley wasn’t planning on getting dragged into small town drama more than his family was already known for being part of it. It wasn’t hard, even. Parker Klein didn’t <em> go </em> anywhere except the grocery store, his apartment, and on daily runs from one spot of a ten mile town to the other. </p><p>    He was old news by the time school started up. </p><p>    The high school was the wrong side of run down and old - it had no air conditioning, the only renovated part was the gymnasium and football field, and Harley had already taught himself the entire senior curriculum back in his sophomore year. Still, he <em> had </em> to attend. He would need some sort of diploma in order to get into any college and he wanted <em> that </em> too much to get an easier GED. The students were dull and average, he had no friends in a town that cared too much about his personal life, and some in the real work considered <em> genius </em> the town considered <em> odd </em>. </p><p>    Harley had resigned himself to his fate of never fitting in but that was okay, really. It had stopped stinging after seventh grade and he had a slew of online friends that were worth more than Rose Hill ever would be. </p><p>    But if <em> he </em> was what Rose Hill High considered <em> odd </em> then Parker Klein was in for a rollercoaster that he wasn’t prepared for. </p><p>    Harley hadn’t expected him to actually attend the school - he had assumed that Parker was smart enough to actually do research on how shitty the Rose Hill school system was and wouldn’t want to spend any more time with the townsfolk then usual anyway. Clearly, he was wrong because the poor bastard ended up seated next to him in literally every class. </p><p>    The joys of alphabetical seating charts. </p><p>    He was quiet and Harley was content not to talk to him either, which seemed like a relief because everyone else seemed to want to be his friend. Three months meant nothing to a group of high schoolers that had been going to the same building together since they were in diapers. Parker was new blood and, like sharks, the other students were sniffing it out as though they had never been fed before. </p><p>    It was annoying to Harley only because they wouldn’t leave <em> him </em> alone either. </p><p>    As the unlucky bastard stuck sitting next to Parker Klein during every period (or in front of him depending on seating situations) he found himself cornered during lunch. For six years everyone in Rose Hill had decided to leave him alone and apparently he was <em> now </em> the person to go to for gossip. </p><p>    Harley didn’t <em> understand </em> people. </p><p>    Jack, the football captain with sparkling teeth (because <em> of course </em> ) whose father was the one dentist that had an office within the town’s limits clanged his tray down on the metal lunch table across from Harley. Because Jack was Hollywood stereotypical he wore his letterman jacket everywhere - Harley theorized it was because he was afraid he would forget his own last name if it wasn’t stitched into fabric that was on his body - and was followed around by the captain of the cheerleading squad - Brittany, the daughter of the baptist preacher in town - who was also his girlfriend of five years. Harley would be shocked if she wasn’t pregnant the moment they walked across the stage to get their diplomas handed to them and married within the next year. Divorced by twenty five with three kids between them. They were both stupidly blonde, small town beautiful, and had <em> used </em> to be Harley’s friends until his father skipped town. </p><p>    “Howdy,” Brittany’s voice was like broken chalk and it sent Harley’s teeth on edge. He didn’t look up at them from his book - Romeo and Juliet (they had read it every single year since ninth grade and <em> still </em> most of the class didn’t seem to understand the key concepts - granted, neither did the elderly teacher) - but, instead, lazily turned the page. Brittany and Jack (and how <em> boring </em> were their names too) shared a look between them - one that Harley knew was cataloging every single seemingly rude thing he had done in his entire life. They were like every single John Mellencamp song that had ever been produced. “Harley, <em> howdy </em> there.” </p><p>    He didn’t answer and so Jack snatched his book out of hands. </p><p>    It was a dumb move on Jack’s part - Harley was a bored genius in a town that had nothing to offer him and he had spent a little too much time building things that he had no issue with practicing with on his classmates. <em> Especially </em> when they got handsy. Harley had grown up with them and he had watched them all fall from grace more than once and Jack jumped back and dropped Harley’s book (well, the school’s book really even <em> if </em> Harley had gotten the same one since Freshman year) onto his sandwich. Mustard sprayed over the cool grey table top and Harley sighed. That sandwich was all he had been looking forward to since he woke up that morning. </p><p>    His homemade taser was near silent but the spark was all Jack had needed to see in order to jump back. “<em> Christ </em> , Keener.” It hadn’t gotten him then, <em> shame </em> really. Harley hadn’t tested it on anything other than tree bark yet and he had been looking forward to knowing how to adjust the voltage appropriately. </p><p>    “Jack.” Brittany corrected with a scandalized look and straightened her way too short blue and white cheerleading skirt before turning back to Harley. “Sorry to interrupt your readin’, Jack an’ I just had a question.” </p><p>    Harley blinked at her dryly. Six years without questions. He <em> knew </em> the new kid was going to be a problem. They stared back at him and Harley sighed, long and drawn out. They weren’t going to leave until he feigned interest.  “And it <em> has </em> to be asked of me?” </p><p>    Jack thumped the table and leaned forward as though <em> anything </em> that happened in Rose Hill could ever be kept a secret and whispered - loud enough that <em> everyone </em> could hear, “What do you know about the new kid?” </p><p>    When Jack asked it was with a sharp glance at the empty table Parker Klein had claimed to himself, shoulder hunched over a notebook that his pencil danced over and studiously avoiding anyone’s eyes. Just earlier that same lunch hour several different groups of friends had tried to sit at his table and engage him in conversation. Each time Parker hadn’t even flicked them a glance. It had been entertaining and Harley had thought about commending his resolve, even if it <em> was </em> bound to get him more problems than it was meant to. Harley groaned. “Is he single?” Brittany asked a little too eagerly and even someone as dense as Jack couldn’t miss it. “For Jenny,” She quickly filled in the unasked question. “She’s been all torn up since Tyler an’ her broke up over the summer.” </p><p>    Harley hoped they knew he didn’t care. “Why don’t you ask him?” Harley picked back up his book and flipped to a random page. At this point he was sure he had the whole thing memorized. </p><p>    He glared at Jack over the top of the pages when he moved to grab it again and smirked behind the pages at the way Jack’s face blanched. “He won’t talk to <em> anyone </em>.” Brittany said with a long sigh. </p><p>    “Is ‘e mute?” </p><p>    “That’s terribly insensitive, Jack. I thought you were accepting of everyone’s differences.” Harley said it without inflection, directly referencing the speech Jack had given during a sophomore football game when the team had offered a spot to the one kid in town with a disability. It had stung, because it was directly after Harley had been forced out of the closet by an overeager guidance counselor that he <em> still </em> had to deal with that had been too excited to finally have an <em> out and proud </em> member of the LGBT community in their school. </p><p>    “If he’s not talkin’ to anyone <em> that’s </em> rude.” Jack argued with a blaze that Harley wanted to punch out of his eyes. </p><p>    “Or maybe y’all should just leave him the fuck alone.” Harley shoved the book in his bag and zipped it up a little too viciously. “I’m done with this conversation.” </p><p>    “Harley, wait!” Brittany called after him but he had already turned his back to her and pushed his way out of the double doors and back into the hallway filled with lockers. </p><p>    More trouble than he was worth - that was who Parker Klein was to him. </p><hr/><p>    Parker Klein got a week of peace before his silence made him a target to the neanderthals he had been stuck socializing with since preschool. Harley did his best to stay out of the small town drama and coast through until graduation - school, work, home and workshop, that was his repeated daily schedule with as little human interaction as that could grant him - but, really, the way they kept <em> bugging </em>Parker would have made even Harley snap. In fact, he commended him for how long he had managed to hold himself back - by day three Harley had noticed that the only respite the poor guy got was during class time when Harley refused to give him anything other than a polite smile in welcome. </p><p>    As most things did in high school coming of age movies, the bullies squared in and narrowed down on Parker in the hallway against the metal of his locker. Harley’s own locker was where the new kid’s shoulder was pressed and Harley sighed - one week into the school year and he was already going to have to risk suspension just to get his chemistry book so he could pretend he cared during class. He shouldered his way through the gathered crowd - because the entire <em> town </em> had to be a stereotype and circle around any perceived fight ready to start chanting like the absolute dumbasses they were - until he was in the front. </p><p>    Parker looked terrified which was terribly unfortunate because, otherwise, Harley wouldn’t have gotten involved. He wasn’t a <em> hero </em> but he had gone to school with these assholes his entire life and had more than a little bit of dirt over all of their heads. It was Matt that had Parker pushed against the metal - a meathead if Harley had ever met one, Matt was also easy to scare. His dad was a drunk, his mother was having an affair with the owner of the sleazy motel <em> and </em> the twenty three year old check out boy at the grocery store and Matt suffered from one too many hits to the head to be able to think like a normal human being. His shoulders were bulky enough to block Parker almost completely from view but his words were loud and biting. “What are you hidin’, freak?” Parker moved to side step him but Matt pushed him back. His body made a noise when it hit the lockers that reminded Harley of sixth grade when he had shown up to school with painted nails from a bored sister that had <em> begged </em> to practice on someone. </p><p>    <em> Hiding </em>, Harley wanted to wipe the smirk off Matt’s face. Simply because everyone knew everyone’s stories in Rose Hill that didn’t mean that they weren’t entitled to their own secrets. Case in point, Matt’s mother. </p><p>    Parker tried to move again, Matt pushed him back again and Harley opened his mouth to tell Matt to back off but stopped when <em> something </em> dark flashed over Parker’s eyes. And by <em> dark </em> , Harley <em> meant </em> dark. It wasn’t a certain look or glimmer but literal blackness. It was quick enough that it could have been construed as a trick of the mind but Harley was nothing if not observant. He quirked his head to the side and narrowed his eyes. And then Parker did something <em> else </em> that surprised him and <em> spoke </em> . He had a clear and crisp accent - every word was perfectly enunciated and carefully cutting that Harley was mildly impressed despite himself. “What’s <em> wrong </em> with me is that your entire bullshit town doesn’t know how to take obvious silence as the invitation to stay the fuck away that it is. Touch me again and you won’t be happy with the results it provides.” </p><p>    Who even <em> talked </em> like that? Not anyone from Rose Hill. Not even the people from Nashville that traveled through town and stopped during the stupid Peach Festival every year. </p><p>    Interesting, Harley thought with his arms crossed over his chest and a smirk permanently etched onto his cheeks. </p><p>    Guess Parker Klein wasn’t <em> just </em> a pretty face. There was some bark there. </p><p>    “What did you say to me?” Matt asked because, well, he was a dumbass and didn’t know when something was more a promise than a threat. He stepped into Parker’s space and tried to crowd him into the lockers but, surprisingly, it was Parker that shoved next with bared teeth. </p><p>    “I <em> said </em> , hick, to leave me alone.” Matt stumbled - <em> stumbled </em> , not many people had the strength in them to make the human brick wall Matthew Randal <em> stumble </em> . A hush fell over the gathered students and Harley thought for a moment that he <em> actually </em> had a chance to get to his locker and grab his book without risking suspension by getting involved in a fight. Only he stepped forward, Matt recovered and took a giant swing, Harley ducked and Parker moved fast enough that if Harley hadn’t been looking he wouldn’t have noticed the way something black and elastic shot itself out of his skin to latch onto Matt and slam <em> him </em> face first into the lockers. </p><p>    The other students around Harley gasped at the sudden violence and Matt’s nose was leaking blood <em> all over </em> Harley’s locker. </p><p>    Disgusting. </p><p>    “Ow man, ow.” Matt whimpered and Parker stepped closer, Matt’s arm wrenched in his hand and tugging it higher up in its socket. </p><p>    He was going to break his arm, Harley noticed after a moment of watching. Which, yes, Matt was an idiot and probably deserved it for one thing or another but if he did it <em> here </em> and against Harley’s locker he would inevitably have to be a witness to <em> whatever </em> punishment was to be dealt out. And, in a town like Rose Hill, breaking Matt’s arm would only cause Parker Klein <em> more </em> problems. He would be run out by pitforks in a week. While that would make <em> Harley’s </em> life easier, he wasn’t sure if Parker would be able to survive out on the streets with nowhere to go. “He’s sorry, aren’t you, Matt?” Harley spoke up when it seemed everyone else was more interested in getting the best view for the Snapchats. </p><p>    Matt whimpered again but nodded when Harley fixed him with a look that all but begged him to just go along with what he was saying. “S...so sorry man I… I won’t bother you again.” </p><p>    Parker glanced at him and his eyes <em> definitely </em> were black now and if anyone <em> other </em> than Harley had seen them they would have been screaming demon and resurrecting the witch trials in five minutes flat. “Calm the fuck down, man.” Harley said in a more quiet voice and Parker blinked. When he opened his eyes the black was gone and back were the painfully <em> normal </em> brown eyes that were obviously fake. He let go of Matt so fast he stumbled back into Harley’s chest, almost as though he had shocked even himself. </p><p>    Victoria, Matt’s on again and off again and on <em> again </em> girlfriend knelt by his side with exaggerated concern etched onto her face.</p><p>    Harley couldn’t help rolling his eyes, caught Parker by his elbows, and pushed him away more gently then he wanted to. “Clean the blood off my locker, yeah?” He reached into <em> Parker’s </em> locker and took <em> his </em> chemistry book instead and definitely <em> didn’t </em> look back when he made it out of the hallway and away from the dwindling crowd.</p><hr/><p> </p><p>    True to his word, Matt <em>didn’t</em> bother Parker anymore. In fact, no one did. Which, really, Harley was happy enough with and it seemed Parker was <em>more</em> than happy with. Teachers didn’t call on him, incredibly unfair to Harley since <em>he</em> had gotten more than one lecture on participation just two years before. In fact, Harley went <em>another two</em> <em>months</em> without hearing his voice again. “Excuse me,” Harley only looked up because it was a voice that he <em>refused</em> to admit haunted his dirtiest dreams and pretended that it <em>didn’t</em> make his heart beat just a little bit faster in his chest when he heard it for the third time in five months. Parker smiled and it was crooked and, somehow, it was the first time Harley noticed that he had a spattering of freckles across his nose. “Where do you keep your mirrors?” </p><p>    An odd request but, really, Harley didn’t know what else he expected working at the small hardware store. It <em> was </em> half an hour until closing time and Harley had been left alone for most of it other than by Mister Sheridan who came in every Thursday like clockwork to buy a suspicious amount of nails that he kept “misplacing”. “Your bathroom doesn’t have one?” Harley asked because he was nothing if not confrontational on the best of days. </p><p>    Shockingly, Parker snorted with a sheepish smile and held up a badly bandaged left hand. “I broke it.” </p><p>    Harley blinked. “Isle three.” </p><p>    “Thanks.” </p><p>    “Hair dye is in isle six.” Harley didn’t know <em> why </em> he said it except that when he had been distracted by Parker’s freckles he had <em> also </em> noticed the red peaking out at the roots of his skull. </p><p>    “I… thank you.” Parker stumbled over the words and Harley was barely able to contain his smile enough to hide it behind his book but he managed and kicked his feet up on the counter for good measure.</p><hr/><p> </p><p>    They weren’t <em> friends </em> after that. Harley didn’t <em> have </em> friends, not since he was little and still had a father, but circumstances forced them to talk to each other and, dare he say it, Parker Klein was <em> interesting </em> . Harley didn’t like to fit into the stereotype of a nosy small town kid but, unfortunately, it was true of him. Parker was left handed, drew <em> a lot </em> , took French as an easy A but knew the language fluently enough to correct the <em> teacher </em> but instead kept his corrections to himself as mutterings, was a natural redhead yet tanned after being burnt by the Tennessee sun, was smart as a whip and seemed to have an anger issue. Their classmates left him alone for the most part, just like they did Harley, but, after a while, the fear that Parker had managed to induce <em> would </em> and <em> did </em> start to fade. Back were the unwanted questions and attention of most of the student body and the complete apathy of teachers that were paid too little to care more than they absolutely had to. </p><p>Rose Hill was perhaps, Harley thought, the only place in the world that cared more about what religion your parents were than if you were an eighteen year old kid that paid six months rent in cash and lived on your own. </p><p>They weren’t <em> friends </em> but Harley wasn’t an idiot - Parker Klein, even with the hair dye and colored contacts, was stupidly attractive. He would have to be blind not to notice that and, even then, Harley was ninety percent sure that he would have checked all of his attraction boxes. Thankfully, Parker wasn’t the talk of the town anymore - Jack and Brittany had finally lost their virginities and, in true damnation fashion, Brittany was now pregnant and the <em> scandal </em> of it had even been printed in the town’s newsletter - so no one noticed if Harley stared a little bit <em> too </em> intently on his behind when he walked away. Parker wore tight jeans and high top ( <em> name brand </em> , Harley wanted to ask him if he really thought he was being conspicuous) purple Converse and the baggiest sweatshirt Harley had ever been forced to look at. He muttered to himself sometimes - usually a <em> shut up </em> or <em> seriously </em> - that Harley was starting to think <em> wasn’t </em> aimed at their classmates but, instead, at a voice in his head. </p><p>That <em> would </em> be Harley’s luck, he thought, that the single most attractive person he had ever seen would actually be fundamentally insane. </p><p>Currently, they were sitting in the hallway, backs pressed up against their respective lockers, while their “physics” teacher went over how bouncing a rubber ball qualified as science to the students that had, somehow, <em> failed </em> their most recent physics test. They were in the hallway because it was nearing a hundred degrees and, in a school with no air conditioning, it was a little <em> too hot </em> to be kept in the classrooms. “Shut up,” Parker moaned softly and Harley glanced at him out of the corner of his eye to see him bent with his head tilted back, the line of his throat on display (and he had freckles there <em> too </em>, how terribly unfair) and eyes squeezed shut. </p><p>Harley got it, partially. Their teacher <em> was </em> one throw away from being a moron and had explained the same concept several times to no avail. At that point Harley would have given up on the majority of the class ever really understanding basic physics but, it seemed, their teacher was <em> still </em> new enough to expect something more from them. “Now that’s just rude.” He meant it as a joke, but the look Parker sent him told him that it didn't quite hit its mark. Was it the tone? Harley had been told more than once that his sarcasm was terribly dry. </p><p>“Sorry I wasn’t…” Only it was some <em> idiot </em> that decided that <em> that </em> was a good time to pull the fire alarm or blow something up in chemistry because the piercing sound cut itself straight into Harley’s ears and made him wince at the assault. </p><p>Parker’s hands shook and he gasped, fingers almost desperately shooting up to cover his ears and body curling in on itself while everyone else simply stood up. </p><p>Harley was shocked - maybe Parker<em> did </em> have a hearing condition (which, didn’t <em> that </em> make what the others had been saying behind his back seem even <em> more </em> rude than it already had been) - and blinked at the way Parker’s face seemed to contort in pain as the alarm continued. Harley went to grab his arm and jerked back as though burned - Parker’s body was <em> oozing </em> (highly abnormal, Harley’s scientific brain supplied him with) and his teeth were grinding together <em> painfully </em> in a way that seemed more than vaguely uncomfortable. </p><p>The teacher glanced back at them - as did half the students - and Harley <em> knew </em> that if he didn’t get Parker up off the floor and somewhere away from their eyes that Parker would be front paged news all over again. </p><p>Something told him that would be a <em> bad </em> idea and he hitched his arm under Parker’s and yanked him upwards with stumbling feet and hastily tried to act as though the <em> black </em> whatever dripping off Parker’s body was <em> normal </em> even if he was screaming about it on the inside. “All good.” He waved at the teacher to keep going and veered left when the class turned right. </p><p>There was a back exit that was closer and, from there, they would be awarded more privacy than the fire alarm would normally allow. Harley was enough of a trouble student that the administration wouldn’t be alarmed that he <em> wasn’t </em> with his class and no one seemed to care enough about Parker to even notice he was missing so Harley figured they were in the clear. </p><p>Parker didn’t gain control over his body again until they were halfway back to Harley’s house, the alarm distant enough that Harley could barely hear it anymore and, when he <em> did </em> gain control he slipped from Harley’s grip and to his knees. </p><p>In the middle of a dirt pile. </p><p>Harley winced only because those jeans had looked expensive and tried to keep his mind <em> off </em> the fact that Parker’s face was perfectly aligned with his crotch and knelt down in front of him. With his head bowed and coughs pulling themselves out of his throat Harley could do nothing but <em> watch </em> as the trail of black they had left behind them seemed to seep its way back into his body. It was like something out of a horror movie but Parker barely even shook when it crawled back up inside of him and, instead only looked up when it seemed all traces of whatever had fallen out of him crawled back inside. </p><p>Harley was sure that his shock showed on his face and, if it didn’t, it definitely showed in his voice. “What was that?” He demanded it harsher than he intended to and Parker flinched. </p><p>“I don’t like loud noises.” </p><p>For someone that was normally such a good liar that excuse fell flat off of his tongue. </p><p>Harley wrinkled his nose at him. “So you… <em> leak </em> when loud noises happen?” </p><p>“I…” Parker looked down at his hands and curled his fingers into the dirt under his palms. “<em> Sometimes </em>.” </p><p>Okay. </p><p>Harley was used to being construed as many things - sometimes he even <em> willingly </em> played up the small town southern boy thing - but an <em> idiot </em> was something no one had dared insinuate that he was before. He was torn between being impressed by the gall and <em> frustrated </em> by the lack of trust. Granted, they <em> weren’t </em> friends and Harley had barely spoken more than thirty words to Parker but… he had thought there was <em> some </em>sort of camaraderie forged between them. “As we all do.” </p><p>Parker winced and Harley rolled his eyes and stood up to his full height, wiping the dirt off his hands before offering one down to Parker to pull him up. </p><p>He didn’t take it. “Sorry.” He said instead and then broke eye contact again to cough into his shoulder. </p><p>“I’m not an idiot, you know.” </p><p>“I know.” </p><p>They were silent for a moment, the hot sun pelting down on them from above and Harley thought he could, perhaps, see where some of the dye was fading under the sunlight. He tilted his head and studied the line of Parker’s shoulders. “Parker.” They didn’t even twitch. Nothing about him twitched. Almost as though that wasn’t even his real name. “Who the hell even <em> are </em> you?” </p><p>Parker blinked up at him through light colored eyelashes and Harley was torn between wanting to punch his perfect face or kiss it. He chose to turn his back on it instead and stomped the rest of the way to his workshop and he didn’t think, at all, about the almost <em> desperate </em> worry on Parker’s face as he ran away.</p><hr/><p> </p><p>“Harry.” It was Sunday night, Harley was getting ready to close up the hardware store, and Parker surprised him so much he almost hit him in the face with his homemade taser. </p><p>He looked miserable, Harley noticed that easily enough, he had dirt on his face and bags under his eyes and Harley wondered if he had stumbled his way back to his one bedroom apartment after Harley had left him in the dirt or just <em> stayed there </em> for two days. “What?” Harley didn’t let him into the building but he <em> did </em>lean himself against the cold metal of the door to study him. </p><p>Parker was shorter than him - by a few inches but, that wasn’t shocking - Harley was a beanstalk - and the cheap hair dye the hardware store sold actually <em> was </em> fading from his hair. “Can we go inside?” Parker asked instead of expanding on his earlier statement. He looked around them at the empty parking lot as though assassins were about to pop out of the shadows and pull him into the night. </p><p>“No?” Harley raised an eyebrow and, honestly, he was being difficult simply because he <em> could </em> be difficult. Parker didn’t actually owe him anything - he handled his own issues surprisingly well. “Why do you drip black shit?” </p><p>Parker shot him a look so severe it almost scared him, only Harley had literally fought against AIM agents with a potato gun when he was ten and Parker looked about as scary as a wet dog. He <em> did </em> manage to push past Harley though and into the shop and the surprising strength behind it had Harley stumbling in after him. He shut the door - the bell clanging <em> annoyingly </em> like Harley couldn’t see the door from the checkout counter - and flicked the lock for good measure and <em> finally </em> turned to look at where Parker stood in the middle of the store, the lights off but the ones from the street lighting him up just a tad from the floor to ceiling windows. Beautiful, Harley thought. He was <em> beautiful </em> in a way that Harley had never really thought of another man. His nose was curved, mouth bowed, and lips full. His hair was <em> fluffy </em> and waist trim and… if Harley hadn’t already figured out that he was hopelessly homosexual than Parker Klein would have been his gay awakening - he was sure of it. </p><p>    Parker bit his lip in a way that was stupidly attractive - especially in the low lighting - and looked at Harley through stupid colored lenses. Harley wondered what color his eyes actually were. “You can’t tell anyone.” </p><p>    “I don’t know how to tell you this, doll, but people wouldn’t <em> actually </em> believe me if I told them that you dripped black sludge whenever fire alarms go off.” </p><p>    “I don’t <em> drip </em>… you know what.” </p><p>    Harley couldn’t help the smirk at the incredulous tone and quirked a brow in response. “What would you call it then?” </p><p>    “I…” Parker breathed in so harshly that it sounded almost painful and fixed Harley with a glare so severe that it looked almost black. “Ugh!” He threw up his hands in frustration and made to walk around Harley and back out the door. “Forget it!” </p><p>    Except Harley didn’t <em> want </em> to forget it. Sure, he was probably meant to be a little bit more worried about the whole black sludge thing but Harley had watched literal aliens come out of the sky on the television, robots try to take over the world, and some guy dressed up like a Spider was all over the internet. Black sludge falling out of an attractive boy was probably the <em> least </em> concerning thing about the world at the moment. He caught Parker around the waist and, in probably the smoothest move he had ever pulled, spun him into his own body and covered his mouth with his own. </p><p>    Parker let out a small squeak and Harley was <em> sure </em> he hadn’t misread those signs but, still, something told him that he might have been a little <em> too </em> forward. The last thing he wanted was to lose the only interesting thing in Rose Hill by acting <em> too quickly </em> and he meant to move away only then Parker was moving his lips over his own and kissing him <em> back </em>. </p><p>    Harley had been kissed a grand total of three times in his life - once by Becky Peterson during seven minutes of heaven when he was twelve, once by Curtis Winters when he was fourteen behind the bleachers, and once <em> again </em> by Curtis Winters before Curtis had moved away when Harley was fifteen. <em> None </em> of them kissed like Parker Klein did. If he <em> didn’t </em> have experience Harley would have been shocked because the way he twisted his mouth and cocked his head and breathed in sharp and slow through his nose while, simultaneously, spreading his fingers over Harley’s shoulders told him something different. The touch and method spoke of practice and Harley was seriously lacking in that. If it bothered Parker he didn’t <em> act </em> like it was an inconvenience. </p><p>    “Harry.” He said again when they finally separated, air hot between their mouths and Harley’s hands halfway up his shirt. </p><p>    “What?” Harley asked again, pulling back just enough to see his face. </p><p>    Parker gestured hopelessly at himself and it <em> clicked </em>. </p><p>    Oh.</p><p>    That made more sense than what his brain was <em> trying </em> to say Parker was implying. It fit him better, Harley thought, with a shrug. He definitely looked more like a <em> Harry </em> than a <em> Parker </em> and he opened his mouth to tell him as such before someone yanked on the locked door and they flew apart. “Sir, we closed an hour ago!” Harley yelled at the clearly drunk Mister Stevens that stood on the other side. “Go home!”</p><hr/><p> </p><p>    Harley couldn’t stop <em> staring </em> at him. At his hands, his waist, his legs, his <em> lips </em> . It was weird because Harley didn’t even <em> like </em> anyone in Rose Hill until Parker Klein showed up and he had lived his whole life there. </p><p>    Harry. </p><p>    That was the only name he had gotten out of him and the truth and trust in it was enough for Harley to almost fall completely. No one else got that name from him and Harley caught himself almost slipping up more than once and calling him it in public. Parker, Harry had told him, was the last name of a childhood friend and Klein a name he had pulled out of a hat. Harry’s apartment was scant and had the bare minimum of belongings - he didn’t have a phone or a computer (why would he when Rose Hill’s education system was literally thirty years behind) <em> or </em> a television. Somehow his fridge was always stocked and, yet, he slept on a mattress on the floor and <em> only </em> used paper dishes and plastic silverware. </p><p>    He cooked like a master chef though. </p><p>    Rose Hill didn’t have much going for it in general, but it's restaurants were some of the worst places Harley had ever had to eat in and <em> he </em> wasn’t the best chef either. He could follow directions well enough but to get something to be made from scratch wasn’t really his <em> thing </em> . Harry, though, told him stories of cooking with his mother while stirring up homemade alfredo sauce and <em> laughed </em> in his face when Harley literally moaned when he tried it. Between his mother fucking off to wherever she went when she couldn’t bring herself to pretend she cared and Abbie basically living with a friend, Harley was left, for the most part, to his own devices and spent the majority of his time at Harry’s apartment or in his workshop. “How are you financing this?” Harley asked one afternoon, lying back on Harry’s mattress and flipping through a sketch book he was pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to be looking at. </p><p>    Harry rolled his eyes and yanked it from his hands, tossing it off to the corner of the room somewhere before pouncing on the bed beside him. His back dipped down when he laid on his stomach, into peaks and valleys of his shoulders and bottom and Harley wanted to <em> touch </em> even if he wasn’t sure he could. </p><p>    Weeks. </p><p>    They had been doing this for <em> weeks </em> and Harley was getting attached when he knew he shouldn’t. </p><p>    Six months. Harry had a six month lease and then he would… what? Leave? Go hide somewhere else? “Who are you hiding from?” </p><p>    It wasn’t the first time Harley had asked but, typically, Harry avoided answering. He was very distracting too, Harley would give him that. “My dad,” Harry looked at him and chewed lightly on his bottom lip. “He found this symbiote and decided to study it.” Harley searched his face for a sign that he was lying but found nothing but open honesty carved into it. “It needed a host and… well a lot of people died trying to bond with it.” </p><p>    “Sounds like a shitty dad.” Harley knew a thing or two about those. </p><p>    Harry’s pink lips perked up at the corners at that and he laughed, just a little and a piece of hair fell against his forehead. Harley watched it, brushed it out of the way with hands that looked so big against Harry’s face, cupped the back of his head and pressed a kiss to his lips once more. He didn’t think he would ever get used to the swooping sensation in his stomach when Harry kissed him back - slow and languid and like he was something precious to be savored. “<em> I </em>didn’t.” He said against Harley’s lips and Harley froze at the words before pulling back. </p><p>    Maybe he didn’t know <em> that </em> sort of shitty father. </p><p>    He studied Harry’s eyes - the black at the edges and dark tint to his smile. “It’s <em> in </em> you?” </p><p>    “It <b>is</b> me.” The way he said it was deeper, darker, more sinister. </p><p>    “Does it hurt you?” </p><p>    “No.” Harry shook his head. “<b>Never</b>.” </p><p>    “Okay.” Harley still wasn’t sure how or why he wasn’t freaking out yet but, really, at least Harry had a symbiote and wasn’t simply talking to himself. Harley thought he could manage an alien lifeforce so much better than insanity. “That’s how you’re…?” </p><p>    He looked around the room as though to finish his own question and Harry understood it without him needing to expand on it. “If I stayed we wouldn’t have been safe. So,” He sighed, smiled a smile so fake it hurt Harley to see, and shrugged. “I stole a quarter million from my dad’s bank account and ran.” </p><p>    “A <em> quarter million </em>?” </p><p>    “<em> That’s </em> what you’re shocked about?” </p><p>    “Darlin’, that’s a <em> quarter million dollars </em> and you’re hiding in bumfuck Tennessee.” </p><p>    “It’s not <em> that bad </em>.” </p><p>    “We don’t even have a <em> Walmart </em>.” </p><p>    “Thank god, Walmart sucks.” </p><p>    “Wait,” Harley laughed and pushed at his shoulder, still trying to wrap his head around a <em> quarter million dollars </em> . “So you stole your dad’s money, <em> and </em> his alien symbiote and are hiding away in Tennessee and he <em> hasn’t </em> found you yet?” </p><p>    Harry shrugged. “I have the money in cash so he can't trace it.” </p><p>    “You have a <em> quarter million dollars </em> in <em> cash </em>?” </p><p>    “Yeah.” </p><p>    “<em> Where </em>?” </p><p>    Harry flicked him in the forehead, square between the eyes. “Why are you so obsessed with the money?” </p><p>    “You could <em> buy </em> this town and <em> still </em> have money left over.” </p><p>    “Why would I want to <em> buy </em> this town?” </p><p>    “I don’t know, doll, why did you wanna <em> live </em> here?” </p><p>    Harry laughed and it sounded like what Harley assumed twinkling glasses were supposed to sound like. “I <em> didn’t </em>.” </p><p>    “Yet here you are.” </p><p>    “Here I am.” </p><p>    “Regret it yet?” </p><p>    “Never.” </p><p>    “So you’re like… a <em> rich </em> kid then, huh?” Harley poked him on the tip of his nose and relished the way his eyes crossed to catch a glimpse of his finger. “What’s your last name, anyway? Something I’d know?” </p><p>    Harry didn’t answer him until<em> after </em> dinner, when Harley had all but fallen asleep under his ceiling fan and <em> knew </em> he would have to go back home soon. “Osborn.” </p><p>    Harley laughed and it was only because it <em> figured </em> , didn’t it? That the boy he had gotten into bed was <em> actually </em> the boy he had crushed on from afar. What kind of luck was that? “Bullshit, you’re not Harry Osborn.” </p><p>    “I am.” </p><p>    “He’s a ginger.” </p><p>    “<em> I </em>am.” </p><p>    “You’re a fucking idiot.” </p><p>    “I<em> am </em>.”</p><hr/><p> </p><p>    They stayed in Rose Hill long enough for Harley to get his diploma - <em> early </em> because that wasn’t even a thing Harley had been motivated to get until Harry had arrived - and then they were gone. He left his mother a note, watched in an odd sort of pride as Harry hotwired a car (which where had he learned to do <em> that </em>? Rich kid was always surprising him) and they drove off in the middle of the night towards a destination Harley had never imagined and running from a past that neither of them were even sure was giving chase. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>it ended so blah. Comments and kudos give me life!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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